


The Spaces Between

by beaglesinbowties (Girlblunder)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, light comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9845249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlblunder/pseuds/beaglesinbowties
Summary: With only Wynonna and Nicole left as official representation for the Black Badge Division, things change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are some allusions to suicide and abuse here, read with caution.
> 
> This is a commissioned story.

* * *

Wynonna groans as she sits up, trying to blink away the gritty feeling in her eyes.

“Good morning to me,” she mumbles as she pushes away an empty bottle of whiskey. She stands and stretches with another groan. There’s a faint thumping in her head that she ignores, instead combing a hand through her hair as she tries to find her jeans.

There’s a stiff wind outside that makes the house creak and groan in the way old places made of wood tend to do. It’s creepy to some, but home to her - which is scary in its own way.

She knows she’s probably late for work, but really, with Dolls gone it doesn’t really matter. Although, she considers as she finally finds her jeans and begins tugging them on, she supposes Nicole might care. Just a little, anyway.

Wynonna snorts as she tugs her gun belt on and into place. It’s a little weird, how easily Nicole has adjusted to living with the knowledge that revenants and all manner of things that go bump in the night actually exist.

She imagines it might have something to do with Nicole having to assist with an exorcism of Waverly while some giant...shadow thing had reached up and consumed a missile set on destroying Purgatory. After fighting a horde of almost-zombie citizens and not a few actual demons.

“You almost done, Wy? Coffee’s getting cold.”

Wynonna jerks and tugs Peacemaker from its holster.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Nicole!” she near-shouts when she spots Nicole standing in the entryway with her hands braced on her duty belt. Wynonna winces and presses a hand - and Peacemaker - against her temple.

“Nicole is actually my first name,” Nicole retorts back with a smirk, “although Waverly has--”

“Ah-dah-dah-dah,” Wynonna warns as she twists Peacemaker so it’s aimed in Nicole’s general direction. “I’m totally cool with you two, but no details. She _is_ my baby sister.”

“I might be scared, Earp, if Peacemaker were actually loaded.”

Wynonna stops and jerks the gun down, her thumb flicking the cylinder release. “Hey! It is so totally loaded.”

She tilts her head up to glare at Nicole, only to find the doorway now empty. A grunt escapes her as she holsters Peacemaker and turns to find her boots.

“Coffee!” Nicole calls from the kitchen. “And if you’re good, we’ll stop and pick up fresh donuts on the way to the station.”

“Donuts?” Wynonna perks up. She shoves her boots on and straightens her shoulders, glancing down at her tank top and deeming it clean enough to venture out into town in. “Nicole, have I mentioned that you’re my favorite deputy?”

Her boots thud against the floor as she hurries to the kitchen.

Nicole snorts and rolls her eyes when she sees Wynonna, turning to grab something from the counter.

Wynonna grins as she accepts the mug of coffee thrust her way.

*

The station is quiet most days, but once in a while a revenant slips, and then she and Nicole are left combing through the data collected by Waverly to identify and neutralize the threat.

Wynonna always snickers to herself when Nicole says “neutralize.” She’s considered hitting a few of the revenants in the balls before, wondering if that would count as being _shot in the head_.

“ _I said neutralize, not neuter, Wynonna. What are you, six?_ ”

Wynonna’s smile fades, her fingers idly spinning Peacemaker around on the table. This is one of the quiet days. Nicole is off doing other deputy things that don’t involve Black Badge, and Wynonna is beginning to feel like she might go out of her mind sitting and waiting.

The light flickers oddly over Peacemaker for a moment, and then Wynonna can only stare at its muzzle.

She remembers Willa’s face that night. She sees it clearly in dreams and nightmares, though most nights it’s difficult for Wynonna to tell which is which.

The metal is cool against her fingertips. The runes, or whatever the hell they are, had glowed blue for Willa.

On Wynonna’s best days, she imagines that had meant that Willa had been sent somewhere different than the revenants.

On Wynonna’s worst days, she’s tempted to turn Peacemaker on herself to discover what color it would shine for her.

“I really need to just, get you a manual on gun safety.” Nicole pauses and squints at Wynonna. “Maybe a DVD.”

Wynonna forces a smile and leans back in her chair. “Good luck getting me to waste time on either. I do just fine, thanks.”

Nicole shakes her head and leans back against the wall near the door. Wynonna had been too lost in thought to hear her come in.

“You bored?”

Wynonna sends Nicole a look of disgust. “No, you know me, I love staring at old creepy photos and playing with guns.”

There’s no immediate response, and so Wynonna finds herself looking up.

Nicole’s eyebrows are raised, and she gives the still-slowly-spinning Peacemaker a look.

Wynonna rolls her eyes and stops it. “What did you want anyway? Did another body drop?”

“Thankfully, no. I thought you might be bored, so...you wanna ride along with me for a while? I’ve got to do some checks along the edge of town, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Be bored in here or out there with you?” Wynonna wonders out loud. “Don’t you normally take Waverly along so you can make out or whatever?”

Nicole coughs into her fist. “Nedley said Waverly isn’t allowed in my car anymore unless there’s an emergency.”

Wynonna stares at her silently. A second later she bursts into laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nicole says as she waves a dismissive hand, “yuck it up, Earp.”

“Ah, that’s so great.” Wynonna wipes at the corner of her eye and stands, holstering Peacemaker. “Let’s hit the road, then. You can buy me lunch.”

She feels a little off as she moves to walk past Nicole, though she’s uncertain why. Maybe the self-loathing is itching a little too close the surface of her skin today, maybe it’s something else.

Nicole gives her a lopsided smile and bumps their shoulders together. “I wonder if I could write off the money I spend buying you food as charitable contributions.”

Wynonna clicks her tongue and squints one eye nearly closed. “Pretty sure you’d have better luck getting donations from grateful townspeople if you let me starve.” She stops and grins at Nicole over her shoulder. “Waverly might have a problem with that, though. Maybe. Depending on the day.”

There’s hardly anyone around the station, and Wynonna ignores the few people populating the office space.

Of course Nicole is right at home, and she waves to one of the deputies as she collects her hat from her desk. She smacks Wynonna on the shoulder with it as they step outside.

“Waverly loves you, ’Nonna,” is all she says as she settles the hat into place.

Wynonna resolves to order a double something at wherever they end up. Trust Nicole to bring _feelings_ into a perfectly casual conversation. Honestly, what a dick move.

*

Ride-alongs with Nicole kind of become a thing over the next couple of weeks. It’s almost puzzling how much Wynonna genuinely enjoys hanging out and tagging along.

Maybe all the free food has gone to her head, she muses as she leans back against Nicole’s squad car and crosses her arms. It’s, like, Pavlovian how she’s come to expect good things around the deputy-cum-Black-Badge-Division-appointee.

Nicole is chewing out one of the locals for speeding near a school zone - the only _real_ school zone in Purgatory, at that - and Wynonna cants her head in appreciation at the sight.

It’s not just that this particular local happens to be one of the snooty bitches that had made Wynonna’s stint in high school hell, though she does feel a certain amount of satisfaction on that front, but the stiff way Nicole moves when she’s angry.

She notes absently (not for the first time) that Nicole’s ass is ‘top shelf’ in uniform. Her lips twist in wry acknowledgement.

Nicole’s expression is stormy as she stalks back to the car; stalking is the only way to describe the lithe, taut way she moves when she’s angry.

“I hate small towns,” Nicole grumbles with a scowl as she reaches her door, leaning one of her arms over the top of it as she watches the truck in front of them slowly pull away.

“Oh, well, Purgatory’s just the place for you then,” Wynonna retorts with a flat sort of cheer, turning her head so she can just see Nicole over her shoulder.

Nicole’s fingers tap at the roof of the car. Her jaw works a moment before she shoves away from the vehicle and releases a disgusted breath, pacing the length of the car.

“Let’s take an early lunch,” Nicole says after she’s completed a few circuits, abruptly turning and opening her door.

Wynonna watches her wordlessly, bobbing her head and opening her own door. “Sure.”

When Nicole’s hand pauses on the gear shift and she turns to give Wynonna an aggravated look, Wynonna buckles her seatbelt with a grin.

To her surprise, Nicole doesn’t say anything, instead jerking the car roughly onto the road.

“Oookay,” Wynonna drawls out, “what gives, Dimples? You’re usually the model of professionalism when you’re on patrol.” _Without Waverly,_ Wynonna mentally adds.

She imagines she can hear the painful grinding of Nicole’s teeth from the other side of the car.

“Nothing.”

Maybe Wynonna’s gotten a little too soft, a little too used to their rapport, because the dismissal stings just a bit. She shrugs and looks away. It’s not like she and Nicole are friends.

“I just...hate small towns,” Nicole repeats after several minutes of brittle silence. Her voice is softer now, almost apologetic, if Wynonna was the type to read into such things.

She’s not. She shifts so that she can raise both legs and rest her booted feet against the dash.

Instead of scolding Wynonna, Nicole only sighs and tugs her hat off, tossing it down so it’s resting on the console between their seats.

“Tacos?” Nicole asks after a moment.

“Tequila?” Wynonna counters with a smirk.

“Tacos,” Nicole affirms sternly.

If Wynonna looks closely, she can see the barest upturn of Nicole’s lips.

*

“...just not sure it's such a good idea. You've been different the last couple of weeks.”

There's a pause, and Wynonna can almost _hear_ the tension building. It's enough to make her hesitate in turning the corner. Nedley almost never lectures his golden girl about _anything_.

“Have there been complaints? Problems I don't know about? You signed off on me being a part of Black Badge activities.” Nicole sounds equal parts defensive and angry.

“I just worry that having Wynonna around so much might be detrimental to your productivity, Nicole.”

And, at last, Wynonna can’t stand lurking anymore. She pushes the half-closed door fully open, giving Nedley a fierce grin. “It's a damn talent to be this detrimental to productivity, mmkay?”

“Wynonna,” Nedley starts with a wary expression.

“Are you kidding me?” Nicole scoffs. “Detrimental to my _productivity_? Jones spends most the day napping at his desk. Stevens has finished more games of solitaire than paperwork in the last month. Please, tell me how having Wynonna along on patrol - _where I legitimately might have cause to need her around_ \- is detrimental to my productivity.”

Nedley’s office is quiet. So is the rest of the station, Wynonna realizes. She nonchalantly nudges the door closed with the heel of her boot.

The wariness on Nedley’s face is more pronounced, his face haggard and pale.

“I just worry about you,” he finally manages, looking and sounding defeated.

Though Wynonna is pleased to have Nicole backing her up, there’s just something wrong with the entire thing to begin with. So when Nicole angrily opens her mouth to respond, Wynonna reaches out and smacks the back of her hand against Nicole’s upper arm.

“Easy, flatfoot. Let’s go for a walk, eh?”

Nicole turns, and Wynonna slides her hand so it’s resting on a uniformed shoulder. She glances back at Nedley as Nicole jerks the door open and they cross out into the main part of the station.

There is something definitely off with the situation when Nedley is sending her an almost _grateful_ look. She feels the faintest tremor start in her hand, so she drops it away as casually as possible.

*

A few nights later, they’re on a stakeout for a revenant. It’s dark out around them and more than a little cold, but they’re cozy tucked away in the patrol car - just down the street of the haunt they’re told their rev-head likes to hang his hooks. Literally.

They’ve been at it for several hours already, but Nicole had thought to pick up and stow some food away before engaging in their surveillance.

“Oh man, this is so good,” Nicole groans with a mouth half-full of pastry.

Wynonna stops chewing her own pulled beef sandwich to eye the small foil-wrapped pie. She licks her lips and tugs on Nicole’s hand until she can lean over and take a bite.

Her eyes widen. “Shit. Did you get an extra? Wanna trade?” She bites her lower lip, now envious since she hadn’t thought to try the pot pie.

Nicole is quiet. Wynonna manages to pull her attention from the foil-wrapped deliciousness.

She hasn’t realized how close she is to Nicole’s face, and she’s suddenly aware of her fingers still lightly splayed over Nicole’s, and the warm, too-quick breaths tickling her cheeks. There’s a few small crumbs sticking to Nicole’s lips. It’s not the first time she’s stolen food from Nicole in this way, but, for some reason, this time _is_ a little different.

“Um.” Wynonna blinks and settles back against her seat. She can’t look Nicole in the eye.

Without warning the hand holding her sandwich is tugged closer to Nicole, and Wynonna tenses when soft breaths brush over her wrist.

She feels Nicole’s head dip, and the strong fingers cupping the back of her own. The wax paper around her sandwich crinkles.

“Yours is pretty good too. We can trade.”

Wynonna can’t say that her stomach is too twisted up to consider eating anyway, so instead she nods and makes the trade with shaky hands.

The cabin, which she’s often considered to be bigger than some places she’s had the comfort of crashing in over the years, is now unexpectedly too small and the air too cloying with... something.

She rolls her window down and goes through the motions of eating until the foil is empty and Nicole’s unbuckling her seatbelt.

“I think that’s him,” she says, and then Wynonna’s twisting stomach is forgotten because it’s just another night. Business as usual.

*

Something loud wakes Wynonna up, but she’s not sure what. For a change, her sleep had been pleasantly free of dreams or nightmares, and she has half a mind to track down the source of the noise and shoot it with Peacemaker.

Her hands dig under the spare pillow until she finds the equal parts comforting and disturbing smoothness of Peacemaker’s grip.

The loudness doesn’t repeat, but now that Wynonna’s waking up, she discerns the burr of low voices coming from the kitchen.

“What time did you even get in last night?”

“Late. I don’t know.”

“Do you realize we’ve hardly spent any time together at all in the last two weeks? I mean, I know they say the honeymoon phase eventually passes, but this is…”

“I’ve just been busy. With work. You know that.”

“Work I could _totally_ help with. You and Wynonna only know what you do thanks to _my_ research.”

Wynonna sighs and rolls onto her back. Waverly and Nicole might be trying very hard to hush their argument, but with only curtains as a door to Wynonna’s room and a fairly open floor plan, their attempt doesn’t amount to much.

“That _is_ how you help, Waves. And we appreciate it.” Wynonna’s worked with Nicole long enough to easily picture the stubborn tilt of her jaw.

“We?”

There’s a pause that has Wynonna wondering if she should get out of bed.

“Nicole, you realize that you’ve been spending more time with Wynonna than me, your _girlfriend_ , for a while now?”

Wynonna’s stomach twists at the implication. Has she been spending too much time with Nicole? She hadn’t thought anything of it, just enjoying not being alone. Her drinking had even slowed down. A bit.

“There’s a lot of revenants to worry about,” Nicole says in a tired voice.

“I don’t think it’s revenants keeping you out so much,” comes Waverly’s incredulous response. “Am I wrong?”

And even Wynonna knows that this pause is too long, too tense. Nicole should be saying something, about how ridiculous Waverly is being because, honestly, _Wynonna_?

But the next thing Wynonna hears isn’t any such denial; there’s no mistaking the sound of a slap, the violent sound of skin hitting skin not an alien presence in the Earp house.

“Does Wynonna know?” Waverly asks in a tight voice.

“No.”

“Good. Get the _hell_ out of my house.”

Wynonna’s chest is tight and she can’t breathe, feeling as trapped as she did when her dad, reeking of cheap rum, would pull Willa out from the safe cocoon of their bed in the middle of the night.

At least Nicole has the good grace not to slam the door on her way out.

As soon as she hears Waverly’s footsteps retreat up the stairs, Wynonna scrambles to dig out a bottle of whiskey she’d bought a week ago but hadn’t touched. Her day drinking had been enough for a while.

Her hands shake so badly that she ends up wearing half of the first few mouthfuls.

She doubts Nicole will be here to wake her up in, she glances at the clock, two hours anyway.

*

The next time she wakes up, it’s long past morning, the sun definitely past its zenith based on the light angling through the living room curtains.

She can tell by the creaking of the house that she’s alone, no steps upstairs or in the kitchen revealing Waverly’s presence.

The pounding in her head is rougher than usual, but familiar and comforting in the same way the nasty feeling in her mouth is.

Maybe she could hide out here the rest of the day. Maybe she could head to Shorty’s to try and con someone into getting her drunk.

It takes her ten minutes to get dressed and drive into town, but at least she’s made a decision.

*

“You’re late,” Nicole says with a closed off expression.

The station is as sleepy as always, only two other deputies and Nedley still hanging around pretending to be working.

Wynonna’s throat works. “Yeah, well, I had a date with a bottle of whiskey. Y’know I just couldn’t duck out, my reputation is already in tatters.” Her hands settle on her gun belt as she looks around the station. “Didn’t have my usual wake up call this morning, either.”

Nicole’s jaw works from side to side, and for a moment Wynonna’s worried about what she’ll say.

“Something came up,” she finally says, turning back to her computer to emphasize her point. “I can’t always babysit you, Wy.”

Then Wynonna can breathe, because there’s nothing out of the ordinary at all. “But you can feed me,” comes her rejoinder.

She’s treated to a slow perusal and a shake of Nicole’s head. “I swear, you only ever think of your stomach.”

But Nicole’s standing up and grabbing her hat, and she’s almost smiling as she rounds her desk.

If Wynonna’s heart pounds a little harder than normal, she doesn’t bother noticing. They’ll go grab food and then patrol a bit, the small confines of Nicole’s car still a safe space.

She won’t mention weird dreams of Willa, her mother, or the latest one starring Nicole and Waverly.

When Nicole’s hand lands on her back to guide her to the car, she doesn’t lean into the warmth, welcome or not.

It’s just another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wynonna/Nicole: "They grow closer after working together in Black Badge division."
> 
> “It's a damn talent to be this detrimental to productivity, kay?” - a quote from my friend Gattaxa, as she was boasting of keeping me from writing for several hours by sending me fic recs. What a jerk?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having problems writing this follow-up commission out (writing in general too but that's beside the point). I finally realized for this that's because my original idea was to wrap this up in another chapter of 3k and it didn't feel right. Instead I took my time writing out the bits I wanted to, allowing the burn to linger a bit more before resolving the main thread.
> 
> Eventually, there will be a third and final part. I have no idea when that might be. I feel this chapter ends on a satisfactory note, but not everyone will agree.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Two days after Wynonna’s weird dream, pickled as the memory is by the whiskey she’d consumed, she begins to worry about its veracity. Waverly has been avoiding Wynonna, seeming angry and impatient any time they’re alone together.

Nicole, for her part, seems nearly the same as always. More serious than usual, maybe.

Wynonna hasn’t seen them together at all since the day before her dream.

She shakes her head and straightens when she spots Nicole, clad in her uniform and holding a large paper bag, returning from the small taco stand. It was just a _dream_.

“Got you the two burrito combo; save the second one for later, yeah? You need something for dinner, too.” Nicole hands over the paper bag without another word, already buckling her seatbelt and starting the car.

Wynonna peers curiously into the bag, her mouth already watering with the smell. “Where’s yours?”

“I already ate.”

Nicole’s head is turned away as she checks traffic to pull out of the dirt parking lot. Wynonna frowns.

“Bullshit.”

The car, which had begun to roll forward to merge onto the main street, jerks to an abrupt halt.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Nicole’s lips are pressed into a thin line of displeasure, her eyes narrowed.

Wynonna straightens her shoulders, her chin jutting out at a stubborn angle. “Bull-shit,” she enunciates slowly.

Nicole’s jaw works, but she doesn’t speak.

“You eat the second burrito,” Wynonna commands as she tugs the heavy foil-wrapped goodness out of the bag. She smacks it hard against Nicole’s arm. “You’ll just have to buy me dinner later, too.”

The serious expression on Nicole’s face begins to crack, her lips twitching. “You just want something else for dinner,” Nicole accuses softly, sounding more amused than angry.

It’s not true, but it works for Wynonna. She arches her eyebrows and shrugs. “You got me. Now eat up; can’t have my backup fainting when we’re chasing a rev-head.”

Nicole snorts but accepts the burrito, placing it in her lap as she maneuvers the car back and into a free patch of the dirt parking lot. “Fine.”

Wynonna’s lips twist into a smile when Nicole begins unwrapping the foil. She tugs her own burrito free of the bag, planning to save the chips and salsa for a little later when she gets bored with the banal nature of patrol.

Their lunch break is passed in silence, less a request for a napkin from Nicole. Though they can be chatty, they’ve been partners long enough that comfortable silences are as frequent as conversation. Normally, it suits Wynonna just fine.

Normally, that is.

“What’s going on with you and Waverly?”

Nicole takes an obscenely large bite of her burrito and looks out of her window. She shrugs.

“Come on, don’t do that. Whatever’s going on between the two of you is seriously messing with her. She doesn’t even want to be around _me_ right now.” Wynonna scowls down at her burrito. “I’ve got enough strikes against me without some lover’s quarrel making things even harder.”

When Nicole doesn’t respond, Wynonna scowls harder. She squints at the loose foil bunched around her mostly-finished lunch and tears off a big piece, quickly balling it up in one hand as picks her target.

“Ow! _Wynonna_ , seriously?”

She blinks innocently and shoves the last of her burrito into her mouth. “Wha?” she asks between chews.

Nicole smiles for the briefest of moments - no doubt at Wynonna’s overly full cheeks - and then slowly shakes her head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Wynonna makes a point to flutter her eyelashes. “Why ank oo,” she says with a still-full mouth.

The car is silent again as Wynonna finishes chewing and Nicole makes a valiant attempt to finish her own jumbo wrap.

“Here,” Nicole says with a small groan as she offers the last few bites over to Wynonna.

“Amateur.” Wynonna gleefully accepts the offering. She’s about to take a bite when she catches Nicole looking at her out of the corner of her eye - at least she thinks so, but when she turns her head Nicole is again staring out of the window.

Wynonna hesitates - but then shrugs and takes a bite.

Nicole heaves a sigh. “Waverly and I aren’t together anymore.”

The words cause Wynonna to swallow the bite of burrito prematurely. She winces as her throat works the chunk of food down. It’s enough to fleetingly distract her.

“Is that so?” she asks as she rubs her throat. _Why_ hangs from the tip of her tongue and threatens to fall from her mouth, but she rolls it back and swallows it down. She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want the safe bubble between them popped.

She feels too warm, the space in the car is too small, and her heart is pounding too hard. How many times have she and Nicole shared a meal? It’s fine, normal but then again…

Before, sharing food had never made Wynonna so aware of the shape of Nicole’s mouth, and in this case how so little the corners of her full lips have upturned the last few days.

Wynonna swallows again and wraps the remnants of the burrito back up in its foil and tucks it into the bag with her chips.

It was just a _dream_ ; she doesn’t know anything.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry if things are weird right now. They’ll settle down again.” Nicole’s voice is reassuring, but she won’t look Wynonna directly in the eye. “Anyway, our lunch hour is just about up. Let’s get back out there.”

“You got it,” Wynonna replies tensely, punctuating the words with a lazy salute to make up for the odd tightness in her tone. It had sounded weird. She knows it.

The sudden urge to dig out her flask hits hard, her hands pressing hard into her thighs as she tries to resist the desire. She’s been doing good, slowly tapering how much she imbibes on a daily basis. It’s cheaper, Wynonna reasons, leaving more money for food.

Or something. She sets the paper bag still in her lap down to rest on the floorboard, willfully ignoring the fact that she hasn’t paid for lunch. Again.

*

“Come on, you used to love Cinderella!”

“When I was _six_. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit past that now.” Waverly pauses in her vigorous cleaning of the bartop to glare at Wynonna. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to _work_.”

Wynonna tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “You’re not even scheduled to work today,” she mutters.

Waverly stops and slaps the cleaning rag down. “I like having the extra money. Besides, what’s with all this? So what if you found that old VHS at the homestead? It’s not going to take us back to when we were kids, or fix all the times you abandoned me.”

The words make Wynonna’s hands ball up into fists. She’s glad they’re out of sight. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“The hell you didn’t, Wynonna!”

Something begins to bubble up in the pit of Wynonna’s stomach, something that feels a lot like fury, amassing and churning until it begins to rise and burn against the back of her throat. She wants to rage about being twelve and understanding that, despite how much her aunt and uncle said they loved her, they thought she belonged in a psych ward. It hadn’t mattered that she’d just lost her eldest sister (or the dad she’d hated just as much as she’d loved) and hadn’t wanted to be torn away from the last little bit of family she’d had.

It was always hard to remember they loved her when, after the second time they’d had her committed, they’d told her maybe it was better if she stayed at the group home. They’d wanted her as far from Waverly as possible. Curtis had tried giving her all sorts of gifts to make up for it, but Wynonna had never felt more unwanted.

The anger recedes as she looks at the familiar features of her sister. It’s not Waverly’s fault. Under Gus’s upbringing, Wynonna has always considered it a miracle that Waverly’s been able to love her at all.

“I know you feel that way,” Wynonna finally says in a rough voice, “but I promise you, it didn’t feel that way to me. You’re my baby sister, and I love you. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. We both know that’s never been me.”

The hard set to Waverly’s features softens, her head ducking down so her hair hides her face. “I’m sorry, Wynonna. I know you’re trying. I’m just going through stuff right now, and I need to get a handle on it before I’m okay hanging out with you.”

The _why_ curls up on Wynonna’s tongue again, but again she rolls it away. “Alright,” she says instead, her voice quiet. She reaches around to the waistband of her jeans, tugging out the worn plastic case. It had been uncomfortable, but she hadn’t been able to let the damn thing go since she’d found it hidden away in an old dusty box. “Why don’t you hold on to this until then.”

The edges of the white plastic are yellowed and dirty, but the inlay is only a little faded, and Cinderella, her fairy godmother, and the three mice can still be clearly seen.

Wynonna had never really liked Cinderella, but she can still remember the weeks she and Willa had worked hard helping their Uncle Curtis on his land for a little spending money. Willa had never understood why she’d _wasted_ her share on the silly movie, but Wynonna can still remember the day she’d presented the shiny case to Waverly - the unbound joy on her face is only one of a handful of happy memories Wynonna has of her childhood.

She doesn’t stay to see how her offering is received, hunching her shoulders as the pushes back out of Shorty’s.

Later, part of her wonders if the sound of plastic sliding against the bar top had just been her hopeful imagination.

*

“Shit shit shit!” Wynonna hisses as she pauses to catch her breath, looking for something to duck behind. Her hands are jittery at her sides, yearning for the familiar feel of Peacemaker’s grip in her palm.

She really should have called for backup sooner. A stack of steel drums on her left seems a good place to hide as any. They’ll provide more thorough cover than the cluttered shelves, but they’re also the obvious choice.

She’ll take the better cover for now. Her breath is loud to her ears as she hides. Too loud.

“Come out lil Earp, I only wanna play a bit!”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and cups her hand around her mouth in an attempt to skew the location of her voice. “You sound like a creepy pedobear.” She pauses, her head pressing back against one of the steel drums. “Wait, _are_ you a creepy pedobear?”

She’d lost Peacemaker and her phone near the entrance to the abandoned warehouse, but maybe she can lure the revenant clear of both. Or either.

A growl that sounds a little more like a laugh is her only response.

She’d only caught a fleeting glimpse of the rev-head before he’d knocked her down, and ‘bear’ didn’t seem like an inaccurate description of his build. Lucky for her he didn’t believe in bathing, and the scent had given him away before he could wrap his meaty paws around her neck.

“Noted,” she whispers to herself. Wynonna takes a careful peek around the closest side of the drums. Stinky is coming along up through the middle. She nibbles at her lip, dropping into a squat as she tries to find something to throw.

There’s various clutter she can use as partial cover on her left, she just needs - something small catches her eye, and she reaches for it. “Well that’s not made of nightmares,” she mumbles when she discovers the small object to be a discarded rubber doll head with a missing eye.

She tests the weight of it in her hand as aims for a pile of junk near the furthest corner on the opposite side.

“Nicole is gonna kill me if Stinky doesn’t.” The words are an odd sort of encouragement for herself, but there’s no one around to hear them anyway. Wynonna takes a steadying breath and throws. The doll head hits and causes a small avalanche of junk and detritus to fall.

The noise draws Stinky’s attention, his heavy thudding steps masking Wynonna’s own as she traverses the precarious side path back to where she’d lost Peacemaker (and her phone).

Wynonna grabs both before slipping outside and out of sight. She wakes her phone, the screen indicating that the call she’d been attempting before Stinky had snuck up behind her had only lasted 7 seconds. _Shit_.

She shoves the phone into her back pocket instead of redialing. Stinky’s unmistakable footsteps are almost right behind her. Wynonna won’t lose Peacemaker again; she can handle this.

Stinky swings as he rushes through the opening, the bulk of his arm glancing Wynonna’s head even as she avoids the full force of the blow.

Instinct keeps her body moving even though the strike has her feeling a little dazed, and when he kicks out at her legs, she can only go with the movement so she rolls rather than falls. He stomps hard against the concrete, trying to step on something, anything to keep her busy.

Wynonna has often considered death and what it means to her. Mostly she considers how it would affect those around her, how relieved her family will all probably be to have the burden of her presence gone. Unfortunately for them, she’s long understood that she loves (well maybe that’s too strong of a word) living too much to shuffle off the mortal coil. There’s enough small things to enjoy, even if the big things never seem to go her way.

As she pushes hard against the ground to roll far from Stinky, she doesn’t think of Nicole.

She doesn’t think about the grudging smiles she’s managed to coax from her recalcitrant partner over the last couple of weeks - despite the situation Wynonna definitely isn’t acknowledging she’s aware of - or how, maybe, her ability to earn those has made making it through the day easier.

When she raises Peacemaker, triumphant grin on her face, she isn’t thinking about anything but surviving. The world around her seems distant as she fires.

As Stinky roars and claws in an attempt to delay his return to hell, Wynonna lets herself fall back so she’s lying down and staring up at the darkened sky. The lone streetlight in front of the old storehouse gives it an eerie orange glow, and Wynonna silently wonders what she’d been thinking, wandering in alone on a hunch. She shakes her head from side to side and looks away.

There’s a metallic taste in her mouth, no doubt from where it feels like her lip is split at the corner. Her tongue pokes out to confirm her suspicion, just as headlights cut through the darkness.

Wynonna squints against the sudden brightness.

“ _Jesus Christ, Wynonna!_ ”

Nicole sounds like a mix between furious and scared.

“Hey, Nic. Nice night, don’t you think?”

*

The drive is full of expletives and a few tirades, but Wynonna only smiles and keeps her eyes closed.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Wynonna opens an eye. “Reckless and stupid, lucky you insisted on installing that locator app on my phone. Got it.”

Nicole grips the steering wheel tighter for a few seconds. She exhales slowly and relaxes her hands. “Yeah.”

Some minutes later, the car is parked in Nicole’s driveway.

“I’ll be right back,” Nicole says as she reaches for the car door handle.

“Couldn’t you just patch me up here?” Though Wynonna usually gets cleaned up in the car (like she’ll ever step foot in the sorry excuse for a clinic ten minutes away), Nicole had been in a hurry to get to Wynonna and the only half-refilled first aid kit had been forgotten at home.

Nicole stiffens. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The word forms and Wynonna doesn’t stop it. “Why?”

Wynonna is aware that Nicole won’t tell her the truth. What’s more, she knows Nicole won’t lie.

“Come on, then,” Nicole finally says instead of answering.

It’s its own sort of answer. Wynonna feels warm as she gets out of the car, watching Nicole and following her rigid form to the front door.

She’s never been to Nicole’s place, half of a neat duplex on the ‘good’ side of town. Wynonna’s of the mind that no such side truly exists. As the door is unlocked and they step inside, she pushes such thoughts aside.

The place is a little messier than she thought it would be but clean. There’s only a small living room and smaller kitchenette, but the decor is all inviting fall hues, comfortable and warm.

“You can sit there,” Nicole explains as she points to the overstuffed maroon couch, “and I’ll be right back.”

Wynonna nods and looks curiously around. The TV is a decent size and tucked into a modest dark-stained entertainment center. It’s the line of photos on top that draw Wynonna’s attention; Nicole's family, all smiles in both professional and candid shots.

Her favorite is one of the nieces and nephew Nicole has shown her before in wallet-sized pictures, the two girls with vaguely similar features squishing their younger brother’s face between their own, paint smudged across all three.

“Is that from when you were helping your sister renovate?” she asks when she hears Nicole returning.

Nicole’s brisk stride slows. She sets the first aid kit down and glances from Wynonna to the photo. “Yeah.” She draws the word out. “How did you know?”

Wynonna shrugs and leans so her elbows are resting on her knees. “I like your stories about them.”

She can almost feel Nicole’s stare.

Instead of commenting, Nicole opens the first aid kit.

The quiet is almost as unnerving as the tense way Nicole moves as she cleans up Wynonna’s face and hands.

“Did you ever get that DVD?”

Nicole stops packing the first aid kit back up and gives her a confused look.

Wynonna flexes her hands, remembering the sting of iodine against the abrasions. “You know, the one about gun safety.”

“I--yes?”

“Is that a question? Sure we can watch it, Nicole.”

“N-no, that’s not what I--”

“So I _don’t_ have to watch it?”

“Yes you _do_ ,” comes the sharp reply.

Wynonna raises her eyebrows. “Well, then, let’s do that.” When Nicole doesn’t move, Wynonna rolls her eyes. “We only have a VCR at the homestead.”

“I left the DVD at the station, so.” Nicole rubs her hands over her denim-clad thighs and shrugs.

The silence seems unusually loud as Wynonna debates with herself. “Could we watch something else, then? Waverly’s working late tonight and I’m kind of in the mood for a movie.”

Nicole shifts, her hands fidgeting with the first aid kit. Wynonna’s certain her unusual request is about to be rejected.

“Sure. I’ll just go put this away. You can pick something from the shelf.”

Wynonna stands when Nicole does, and it’s clear by Nicole’s expression that she’s as surprised as Wynonna is at her acceptance.

“Be right back,” Nicole adds before picking the kit up.

“Alright, then.” Wynonna smiles as she steps over to the entertainment center, pleased by the many neat rows of DVDs.

Her fingertips brush affectionately over the collection of kids’ movies Wynonna is certain are only half for Nicole’s nieces and nephews. She absently rubs a thumb over the case for “Cinderella” before settling on the first “Charlie’s Angels” reboot movie.

Nicole is more relaxed when she returns, seeming pleased with the choice. “I was obsessed with Lucy Liu for a while because of that movie,” she admits with a small laugh.

“She’s exceptionally talented _and_ hot,” Wynonna concedes, “but I’ve always had a soft spot for Drew Barrymore.”

*

Halfway through the movie Nicole orders pizza. It arrives when the movie wraps up, and Nicole nods agreeably when Wynonna picks up the sequel.

With a full belly of pizza (and wings) Wynonna’s eyes droop and fall shut long before the credits roll. She drifts in and out of a vague sense of awareness, feeling content and safe.

She blinks half-awake at the feeling of movement, snuggling closer to the warm neck near her face as she’s cradled and carried. They're sensations she hasn't experienced together since she was a child, assuming the faint memory is even real at all.

The smell of Nicole’s shampoo and skin relax Wynonna further, and when she feels the shift of weight that indicates she’s about to be set down, she presses a sleepy kiss to the column of Nicole’s neck.

If she were fully awake, perhaps she might regret the sign of affection - especially since Nicole stiffens at the contact - but Wynonna doesn’t think of such things. She only sighs and revels in the prolonged tactile comfort before she’s finally carefully set down.

“Thanks,” she mumbles as she feels her boots being tugged off. The weight of a blanket settles over her just before the door closes and sleep claims her.

*

Nicole stares down at the floor of the living room. She’s alone in the darkened space, but if she were to lean back she imagines she could still feel a hint of Wynonna’s warmth still on the upholstery.

She brings a hand up to rub at her neck.

When she’d realized Wynonna was in trouble earlier, she’d never envisioned that their night would end like this. She’s done her best to remain a good friend to Wynonna while keeping a respectable distance, but it’s been difficult.

Not like the movies and pizza, that had been easy. Spending time with Wynonna is easy.

Loving Wynonna is easy.

Nicole has considered this a problem up until tonight. Loving Wynonna will only cause more difficulties, tangled as things already are with Wynonna’s otherworldly obligations and Nicole’s history with Waverly. Except, maybe it doesn’t need to.

No, maybe she might not be able to love Wynonna in exactly the way she wants, but she can love Wynonna in exactly the way _Wynonna_ needs.

It aches a bit, sure, but…

More than anything, reveling in her bond with Wynonna fills her with a heady joy that far outweighs the sharpness of that ache. Wynonna deserves some goodness in her life. If Nicole can facilitate that in anyway, she will.

As she settles down on the couch with a spare pillow and blanket, Nicole smiles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all about maintaining the status quo, but not everyone is happy with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last commissioned bit of this story. I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

* * *

“You know, if you don’t actually _watch_ this, our deal is void and null.”

Wynonna opens her eyes and raises her head from resting back against the couch cushion. “I was watching with my eyes closed. Or, you know, listening.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. Even though she’s casually dressed in jeans and an emerald pullover, Wynonna can easily picture her in uniform. “Or napping.”

“ _Listening_ , Nic, jeez. Give me a break, will you? This video is older than I am. Just look at their clothes! How can I take them seriously when they look like they extras from CHiPs?” she gestures to the TV to emphasize her point.

A stern looking man in a uniform is frozen mid-monologue. His haircut and uniform are dated, reminiscent of the 90s rather than the 70s, but Wynonna believes a little hyperbole will suit her argument better.

Well, it might have, maybe, if Nicole wasn’t already used to her.

“Deal with it. Eyes and ears open, or I’m not buying you dinner.”

Wynonna raises her eyebrows. “You already ordered. And paid.”

“I won’t share.” Nicole’s serious expression shifts into a devious sort of amusement. There’s a challenge in her eyes that Wynonna won’t meddle with when tasty food is at stake.

Wynonna crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Push play. I want this over with by the time my food gets here.” 

“That’s the spirit.”

The video isn’t that bad, really. Wynonna’s sat through worse. While on her tour of the world she’d gotten used to finding aging theaters that played old flicks - a cheap, peaceful, and easy way to take shelter when options were limited.

In any case, Nicole had been unwilling to let Wynonna’s (regrettable) concession to watch the stupid gun safety video go. Wynonna had needed to think quickly to make the deal more palatable.

Getting to watch it at Nicole’s place with the added promise of dinner had taken some effort.

She glances at Nicole out of the corner of her eye; Nicole’s attention is split between the video and occasionally making sure Wynonna is still watching. Her diligent expression is kind of cute.

Wynonna forces her attention back to the TV. It wouldn’t surprise her if Nicole has a pop quiz planned for after the video.

She squints and tries very hard to resist the urge to resume her nap.

The doorbell rings before the video finishes. Wynonna perks up but Nicole brusquely gestures for her to remain seated. And watching.

Wynonna manages to hold off rolling her eyes until Nicole has turned away.

Just as the man is mumbling something about firing pins, raised voices catch Wynonna’s attention.

“Just let me check, okay?” Waverly sounds annoyed.

“I wish you would have called first,” comes Nicole’s tight response.

“Why--oh.”

Wynonna straightens on the couch, her hands pressed tightly over her knees. She swallows and raises an awkward hand. “Hey, Waves.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” The question is directed back at Nicole. Waverly makes a beeline for Nicole’s bedroom before anyone can respond. “I’ll only be here a minute,” she snidely adds as she opens the bedroom door.

When Nicole follows closely behind Waverly and shuts the door, Wynonna stares back down at her hands. Nicole and Waverly’s argument is muffled by the thick wood, but she can still hear it. She’s not certain she’s more worried about the tense tones or when they both suddenly stop speaking.

Maybe she should just leave. 

Just as she stands the door opens back up.

Waverly storms past Wynonna without looking, what looks like a shirt held tightly in her grip.

Nicole sends Wynonna an apologetic look as she again follows Waverly.

Wynonna shifts her weight from foot to foot and eyes the back door on the far side of the kitchenette.

“Sorry,” Nicole says before Wynonna’s even made it halfway. She frowns. “Were you leaving?”

“No?” Wynonna casts a last envious glance at the back door. “I was just thirsty.”

Nicole crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. Well, pick something and come sit back down. You haven’t finished the video yet. You will take gun safety seriously, dammit. Also, I know you were training with Dolls, but I think it’s time you learned some basic procedures about securing an area--”

“Holy hell, Nic! Okay, fine, I’ll finish the video. Hold off on all that other...ugh, you’ve got beer, right?” It’s really not her favorite, but she knows Nicole doesn’t keep a lot of hard liquor around - especially not since Wynonna’s been coming around more often.

“You know where it’s at.”

There’s no admonishment in Nicole’s voice but Wynonna still feels a little self-conscious as she treks her way to the refrigerator.

“You want one?” she calls back.

“Sure.”

It makes Wynonna feel a little better. She grabs two of the dark bottles out of the fridge and pops the tops, almost completely relaxed again by the time she rejoins Nicole.

“Thanks,” Nicole says as she accepts the beer.

Later, when the video’s long over and Nicole’s still nursing her first beer while they eat, Wynonna has a funny thought that Nicole probably agreed to have one just to make Wynonna feel a little less self-conscious about drinking.

She shrugs the thought away. She’s got to stop reading too much into things.

“So, about the training I mentioned,” Nicole begins.

Wynonna stops chewing and abruptly swallows. “What, you were serious?”

“Completely. You got lucky against that last revenant, but you won’t always be. A little training would go a long way in making sure you’re better prepared to strategically handle certain situations.”

There’s something soft in Nicole’s voice - or maybe it’s the earnest expression on her face, brow slightly furrowed and eyes gently pleading for her acceptance.

Wynonna isn’t sure; the fluttering feeling in her own stomach is too distracting. “Okay.”

*

Sometimes Wynonna thinks about Dolls.

Dolls had been hard on her for so long, but he’d been good to her, too. He’d helped polish the side of her few people even knew existed.

He’d helped her be just a little bit better. He’d had her back.

Sometimes when Wynonna looks at Nicole, she’s reminded of Dolls.

They look at her the same way.

They make her feel the same way.

She doesn’t like it. Also: she likes it too much.

Wynonna grumbles silently under her breath and carefully steps through the open doorway. The dummy gun she’s holding is almost heavy enough for her to believe it’s real.

“Bang!” comes a loud voice to her right. “You’re dead.”

Wynonna and rolls her eyes. “Do you _have_ to do that every time?”

Nicole steps out from behind an opened door. “Yes.”

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” Wynonna squints out of one eye and wags the dummy gun at Nicole.

To her great aggravation, Nicole smiles and leans against the wall. “Thanks. Now, again.”

“I hate you.” Wynonna glares, and Nicole’s dimples seem to deepen. “Why aren’t you in uniform, anyway?”

Wynonna refuses to stare at the skin-tight jogging pants or the bare midriff exposed by Nicole’s cutoff sweater. Nicole doesn’t have anything that Wynonna hasn’t seen before.

“I squeezed you in right after my workout,” Nicole explains as she pushes back off of the wall. “Come on, we’ve only got this place for another half hour. Again.”

“And I thought Dolls was bad,” Wynonna mutters.

Nicole stiffens briefly but gestures back to the starting point of the paintball warehouse. “Shake a leg, ‘Nonna.”

*

Wynonna swirls a fry through the small mound of ketchup. She glances up at Nicole before stuffing it into her mouth. “Don’t like it?”

Nicole blinks and picks up her burger. “No, it’s great. Thanks for lunch, by the way.”

There’s a moment of quiet where their eyes meet over their respective meals. Nicole looks away first.

Wynonna shrugs and picks up another fry. “I, uh, appreciate what you’re doing, you know.”

She knows the moment Nicole is looking at her again. There’s a small shift of Nicole’s head, and it’s like Wynonna can feel the cautious look. She chews carefully before swallowing.

“Training me, trying to help me be better.” Wynonna studies her burger before picking it up, waiting until it’s partially hiding her face to say the rest. “Not a lot of people think I’m worth the time. Or effort.”

“A few people do,” comes Nicole’s immediate reply, “the ones that aren’t stupid. Forget the rest.”

Wynonna takes a bite of her burger to keep from smiling. “Too much inbreeding in this town anyways,” she says around chews.

Nicole doesn’t bother hiding her own smile. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but.”

They snicker to themselves and continue eating. It’s a nice day, and Wynonna’s glad she suggested they take their burgers out to one of the rest stops at the edge of town. 

The paint is worn and faded on the old picnic table, but it’s relatively clean and there are no other people around. 

Nicole shifts and her leg brushes Wynonna’s under the table. “Sorry.”

Wynonna sets down her burger over the crinkled brown bag it’d come in. Nicole is having difficulty looking at her today. It’s unusual, and Wynonna debates asking. “Something wrong?”

At first Nicole doesn’t move or visibly react. She sighs after a moment and sets her own burger down. “You haven’t talked about it much since we first tried to find him, but...I know you must still miss Dolls.”

A sharp pang of feeling hits Wynonna, but she offers Nicole a crooked smile. “He was my partner.”

Now Nicole won’t look away from her, brown eyes studying Wynonna closely. “He was more than that, wasn’t he?”

“I--” Wynonna frowns and looks down. She fidgets with the edge of the brown bag. “He was beginning to be more than that, maybe. Who knows? I probably would have found some way to screw that up, too.”

Nicole’s hand stretches out so that it’s resting on Wynonna’s wrist. She gives Wynonna a serious look. “We’ll find him. Actually, I, uh...never stopped looking. I’ve got law enforcement friends making inquiries in the States.”

Something tight rises in Wynonna’s chest, emotion growing so large in it that for a moment nothing can filter into her lungs around it. “Okay.”

Wynonna’s fingers dig into the wood of the table. She still doesn’t understand how Nicole can be so genuinely _good_ , or why someone like her chooses to be around Wynonna.

She remembers then that it’s just Black Badge that’s brought them together. Just like with Dolls.

Nicole squeezes Wynonna’s wrist once and then pulls her own hand away, fingertips dragging briefly over Wynonna’s skin.

She offers Wynonna a crooked smile, and Wynonna is suddenly and blindingly faced with the fact that she’s grown far too attached to the deputy.

Just like with Dolls.

“We should finish eating and get back to patrolling,” Wynonna says in slightly rough voice, “don’t want to miss any rev-head shenanigans.”

Nicole nods and picks up her burger.

*

“I left some eggs for you on the stove.”

Wynonna blinks and rubs at her eyes, smiling brightly at her sister. “Thanks.”

Waverly bobs her head and turns back to enjoying her cup of coffee. 

They’ve been doing this for a couple of weeks now, having quiet moments at the homestead. They’re not like they were before Waverly’s breakup, but they’re getting there. Slowly.

“Thanks for running to the store for me yesterday. My cramps were horrible.” Waverly’s voice is a little quieter than it used to be, but at least she’s been smiling again.

“Anytime, baby girl.” Wynonna grabs a plate and scoops the healthy portion of egg onto it. She hates seeing her sister in pain and is glad to see Waverly finally coming back to herself.

“I’m surprised you weren’t hanging out with Nicole last night,” Waverly says casually as Wynonna grabs a fork.

“I don’t hang out with her _all_ the time.” Wynonna sits down across from Waverly but doesn’t start eating.

At first Wavery doesn’t respond, instead inspecting the contents of her mug. “You do hang out with her a lot, Wynonna.”

Wynonna leans back into her chair. “She’s my partner.” She pauses. “And friend. I don’t have too many of those around here.”

“Yeah.” Waverly brings her mug up for a drink. “Yeah,” she repeats softly. “But are you sure there isn’t...something else going on?”

“There’s nothing else going on,” comes Wynonna’s quick and sharp response.

Waverly snorts. “Right. Just like there wasn’t anything going on when I walked in on you and Champ.”

“First of all, ew, I was trying to get information out of him. Secondly, I didn’t know he was seeing you. I would never intentionally hurt you in that way.” Wynonna’s eyes burn; she refuses to blink, desperate for Waverly to understand the truth. She _needs_ Waverly to understand - and to believe her.

“Not intentionally, no,” Waverly says in a small voice.

“Waverly--”

“No. I...no.” Waverly sets down her mug and looks away. “I’ve been talking about it with Chrissy. I think I kind of get what’s going on. I think I’ve,” she swallows, “come to terms with what’s going on.”

“Waverly, _nothing_ is going on.” The edge of the table bites hard into Wynonna’s hands as she grips it, but she doesn’t notice.

“But you want there to be. _She_ wants there to be. Just stop pretending, already! It’s pissing me the hell off!” Waverly’s chair screeches loudly on the floor as she abruptly shoves her chair back and storms from the room.

Wynonna stares down at her plate, no longer hungry.

*

“Waverly said ‘hi’ to me today,” Nicole says as she turns the patrol car down one of the back roads leading through outskirts of Purgatory. “She hasn’t done that in months.”

Wynonna makes a noncommittal noise in her throat. She knows what’s brought about the sudden change, but she doesn’t want to bring it up.

She’s not ready to bring anything of the sort up to Nicole.

“I think she’s seeing Chrissy,” Wynonna finally says. “I’m not sure, but they’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Kind of like how she’s been spending a lot of time with Nicole, comes the additional thought.

“Chrissy, really? Hm.”

Nicole goes quiet and, after a few moments, the quiet has Wynonna looking her way.

There’s a smile on Nicole’s face, small and private.

Wynonna narrows her eyes. “You are just so annoyingly, frustratingly perfect, you know that?”

The smile straightens into a stern line. “What?”

“You almost never get angry. You’re insanely patient and good and you put others before yourself to an irritating degree. Why can’t you just act like a normal imperfect human for once? I just told you your ex has moved on with someone else and you _smile_?” Wynonna isn’t sure where the anger is coming from, or why she’s directing it at Nicole. She can’t seem to stop herself.

Nicole calmly pulls the car over and shifts it into park. She stares forward for a few beats before turning to Wynonna. “What’s up, Wy?”

Wynonna angrily purses her lips. “What, do you just have like two settings? Happy and fine? Did the factory forget to include the rest when they put you together?”

The car is abruptly turned off. The ensuing silence is heavy.

“Why are you so angry, Wynonna?” Nicole’s voice is soft. She remains facing forward, both hands still on the wheel.

There’s an extra shimmer to Nicole’s eyes that lets Wynonna know she’s hurt her.

Guilt and something else makes her throat feel thick and her own eyes sting. She opens and closes her mouth as she tries to articulate things she’s scarcely even let herself think about. She swallows.

“Waverly is the good sister, you know? She isn’t screwed up the same way the rest of the Earps have been. She’s normal.” Her lips tremble. “You were supposed to be with her. She deserves good things. She deserves everything.”

“I agree.”

Wynonna ducks her head down as she fumbles with her seatbelt, jerking her door open. The car is suddenly too stifling. She needs fresh air.

She isn’t surprised to hear Nicole follow suit. Still, she can’t face Nicole. She paces a few steps before combing a hand roughly over her hair and staring up at the wide, blue, infuriatingly perfect sky.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Nicole says from just behind her.

Wynonna hunches her shoulders but doesn’t respond.

“Waverly is a good person, and she is different from you, Wynonna. But that doesn’t mean she’s perfect. Neither am I. Neither are you. But that? That doesn’t mean that none of us deserve good things, or to be happy.”

A warm, firm hand settles on Wynonna’s arm. The grip is gentle, and Wynonna finds herself turning at its silent insistence. She isn’t aware she’s been crying until Nicole’s other hand settles on her face and delicately brushes some away with a thumb.

“I’m not angry about Chrissy because I’m happy for Waverly.” She stares intently into Wynonna’s eyes. “No matter what you’ve been through or how different you are from her, you deserve to be happy, too, Wynonna.”

“Goddammit, Nicole,” Wynonna whispers as her eyes droop closed and she leans forward to press her lips to Nicole’s.

The kiss starts off roughly - Wynonna’s half convinced that she’s made a mistake, that Nicole will push her away and ask her what the hell she’s thinking.

But instead Nicole brings both hands up to cradle her face, gentling the kiss with a patience Wynonna often finds frustrating. She doesn’t now.

Before she knows it they’re pressed together tightly and kissing deeply. She’s not sure if the thudding in her chest is her own or Nicole’s, or if any tear-laced kiss has ever tasted as sweet.

When they finally pull apart for air, they’re leaning back into the patrol car and Wynonna’s hands are tightly clutching the sides of Nicole’s uniform shirt.

“Sorry,” she mumbles as she loosens her grip.

Nicole responds with a grin and another kiss.

*

“Where you going?” Waverly asks as Wynonna finally finds her keys and squeezes them into her pocket.

Wynonna pauses and shifts her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “A...a date.”

“You? A date?” There’s a pause. “I don’t think I need to guess who it’s with.”

Wynonna can’t look at her, not at first. She swallows and gathers her courage.

To her surprise, Waverly is smirking.

“Don’t let her monopolize all your time. I want a sister’s day tomorrow.”

“O-okay, yeah. Sure.” Wynonna can only blink.

Waverly’s smirk shifts into a smaller, but more meaningful, smile. “I thought we could watch this.” She steps forward and extends a VHS case.

Wynonna stares down at it. The edges of the white plastic are yellowed and dirty, but the inlay is only a little faded, and Cinderella, her fairy godmother, and the three mice can still be clearly seen. 

“Sounds great.” If her voice sounds a little odd as she accepts it, Waverly doesn’t comment.

“Cool. See you then.”

“Yeah.” When she looks up from the case, Waverly is gone. She quickly wipes at her eyes and deposits the case onto the coffee table. She’s already a little late.

Nicole is leaning back against her truck by the time she finally exits the homestead. Wynonna’s step falters; Nicole’s in tight jeans and a button-down plaid shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders.

“Let’s get this over with,” Wynonna blurts out. She winces. It’s been a while since she had a first date. Or any date, if she’s being honest.

Nicole grins and reaches out to pull her closer by the hand. “Careful, Earp, you’ll spoil me.”

“ _Jesus_ , Nicole. Could you stop being perfect for like, two seconds?”

When Nicole laughs and pulls her closer, Wynonna doesn’t bother complaining.


End file.
